


not too late to say you're sorry (it's too late to truly mean it)

by reversustenebris



Series: MCYT Oneshots [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Temporary Character Death, eret doesnt betray them, this started out angsty but these fools have too many antics to stay that way, tubbo and eret aren't blood related but they're Brothers yk, tubbo commits several war crimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:02:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26419933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reversustenebris/pseuds/reversustenebris
Summary: “He’ll respawn, Tubbo.” Tommy says weakly a few minutes later.“I don’t think it’s the dying, really,” Tubbo says, voice hoarse, only having stopped crying because he had no tears left in him, “I just don’t want him hurting.”---Eret refuses to betray his family. It doesn't go over well.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & Eret (Video Blogging RPF), no shipping ew - Relationship
Series: MCYT Oneshots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1920349
Comments: 28
Kudos: 605





	not too late to say you're sorry (it's too late to truly mean it)

Tubbo can feel his eyelids threatening to slip shut and so he rubs at his face for the nth time that hour, weakly attempting to keep himself awake. He doesn’t think he’d actually sleep if his eyes did shut, though, just lay there in the dark internally agonizing.

Based on the moonlight he sees from his small window, he thinks it's around midnight. Not too long after he typically goes to bed, but the stress from the past few hours has him exhausted. 

Eret left early that afternoon to go grab some things from the server hub, and he’s yet to come back. He’s usually back before sundown because he knows Tubbo starts to worry. Tubbo knows that he knows this. He would never be late. The lone empty bed in the room haunts him even as he’s turned away from it, and the soft snoring from the filled beds around him is starting to get irritating. He sits up.

The floor barely creaks as Tubbo carefully rolls out of bed, quickly grabbing his boots off the ground and slipping out the door. Once outside, he leans against the wall and he pulls his boots on before quietly hustling towards their weaponry storage building, praying that turning the lights on inside won’t wake the others. He’s about twenty feet away when he hears a thud come from the direction of the front gates.

He quickly ducks down, feeling the brush of the tall, dewey grass as he creeps around the edge of the weaponry building towards the source of the sound. He rounds the corner just in time to see what looks like two shadowy figures vanish behind the wall. He pauses and waits to see if they return, and once he’s satisfied they’re gone, gets up and hurries the rest of the way towards the gate, eyes darting around in the dark as he searches for the source of the thud.

The search is beginning to feel fruitless when he feels the toes of his boots nudge against something heavy on the grass, he looks down, and suddenly he’s barely able to smother the scream that rips out of his throat.

Sprawled out on the grass, lying like he’s just been tossed there, is Eret. He’s resting haphazardly on his side, staring forwards with a blank expression. His sunglasses are gone, and his hair’s a mess. He’s barely moving, but Tubbo can make out the weak rise and fall of his chest, and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. If Eret was dead, he’d respawn, sure, but that takes a while, and Tubbo’s heard it’s extremely painful. Tubbo falls to his knees and gently starts rolling Eret onto his back, and he’s almost gotten him safely down to the ground again when he notices the wound. He’s not able to smother the scream this time around.

Tubbo’s seen plenty of sword wounds in his short life. Fighting in a war will do that, he supposes. But this one is exceptionally horrific, a large, deliberate-looking slash, blood still flowing steadily down Eret’s side. A pool is forming underneath him on the grass. Eret groans at the movement, and his eyes twitch like he’s trying to move them, but he says nothing more, and his breathing gets impossibly shallower as Tubbo finishes rolling him over and leans over him.

“Eret?” Tubbo says, voice shaking harder than he’s ever heard it. “Eret? What the fuck happened?” He doesn’t get a response. “Eret, please,” Tubbo hears himself begging, voice wavering, feels tears start rolling down his cheeks, as he stares helplessly at his dying brother. “Please, you’ll be okay.” Tubbo takes a heaving breath. “Please be okay.” 

He’s taken off his overcoat and is pressing it to the wound, but he’s not the best with medicine, and the blood is still flowing, and the feeling of Eret’s blood on his hands is starting to make them feel like they’re burning, warm against the cool night air. He’s staring at the blood that’s starting to flow faster from beneath his ruined overcoat when he feels a hand on his shoulder, and he jerks back before settling at the sight of Tommy standing over him. Tommy grabs his arm and hauls him up before pulling him back a few feet.

“Let me go!” Tubbo shouts, trying to pull away, “He’s going to die, Tommy!” He’s on the verge of hysteria, barely able to calm himself even as Wilbur and Fundy arrive and gently lift Eret to carry him to their little infirmary.

Tommy doesn’t let go, pulling him into a tight half-hug instead. “He’ll be ok, Tubbo,” Tommy says, voice thick. Tubbo doesn’t think he’s ever seen him cry before. He doesn’t look up, he doesn’t want to see it. “Fundy knows what he’s doing.”

“Y-you didn’t see that cut, Tommy.” Tubbo manages to get out. “There was so much blood.” He weakly holds out his bloody hands, and Tommy lets go of him to pull off his own overcoat and start attempting to wipe the blood off. It just smears instead, and Tommy can feel himself start to cry too, really cry, so he simply sits the two of them down on the grass, leaning his head against Tubbo’s as they watch the lights flicker on inside the infirmary.

“He’ll respawn, Tubbo.” Tommy says weakly a few minutes later.

“I don’t think it’s the dying, really,” Tubbo says, voice hoarse, only having stopped crying because he had no tears left in him, “I just don’t want him hurting.”

\------

Wilbur comes to fetch the two of them around thirty minutes later, easing them up and into their living quarters before sitting them on his bed and wrapping a blanket around their shoulders. He sits on the bed opposite them.

“What happened, Tubbo?” he asks softly. His eyes are a little puffy too, Tubbo notices.

“I went out for a walk,” Tubbo says. He doesn’t want Wilbur to worry. “I couldn’t sleep. I had barely left this building when I heard a thump coming from the front gates, and I went to go check, because it sounded super weird.” He pauses to think. “I saw two people, I think, leaving the gates before I hurried that way and found Eret. It was dark.” He takes a deep breath. “Really dark over there.”

Wilbur makes a quiet noise in acknowledgement. “I’m sorry, Tubbo.”

“How is he?” Tubbo asks, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders, and shuffling a little closer to Tommy.

Wilbur looks away, staring down at the ground between them instead. “I’m sorry, Tubbo.” Is all he says.

Tubbo was wrong about not having any more tears left to cry.

\-------

Eret’s body is never left alone while they wait for him to respawn. Tubbo hasn’t left the infirmary since he died, spending the days telling stories to Eret, or talking to the others when they come to visit, and spending the nights curled up on a small mat Fundy put on the floor for him. 

It takes around three days. Too long, Tubbo thinks. Should have never happened in the first place.

He’s in the middle of telling Eret about one of his and Tommy’s several misadventures when the cold hand he has clutched between his own suddenly twitches, growing warm once again.

“Eret?” Tubbo gasps, leaning closer and holding his hand even tighter.

Eret’s eyes slowly open, their slight glow lightly illuminating the room around him, and he tilts his head slightly to look at the boy hovering over him. “Tubbo?” he croaks, voice shot.

“You’re alive!” Tubbo says wrapping him a gentle-yet-enthusiastic hug, gingerly avoiding the bandages wrapped around his side.

“...Was I not before?” Eret asks as he manages to lift an arm up to return the hug. He feels Tubbo stiffen. “Oh.”

Tubbo eventually pulls back, eyes red but not quite crying. “W-what happened to you, Eret?”

The glow in Eret’s eyes starts to dim. “Motherfuckers kidnapped me.”

Tubbo doesn’t have to ask who. “What the fuck?” He shrieks. “Why? How? Those fuckers-” He quiets down when he notices Eret’s flinching at the volume. “Sorry, Eret, I’m just… I don’t…”

“I know, Tubbs.” Eret says, leaning back onto the cot and staring up at the ceiling, taking time to sort his thoughts. “It started out fine, I guess. I saw them when I was at the hub, and we started a polite conversation because we weren’t currently in a battle. I thought it was fine.” He lets out a deep, shaky sigh before mumbling something Tubbo can’t quite hear.

“What was that?” Tubbo asks softly, not wanting to interrupt him.

“They asked me to betray L’Manberg. Betray you.” He says, “Told me I’d be king if I did.”

“What’d you say?”

Eret flinches slightly, looking offended that he even asked. “I said ‘fuck no’, of course.” He looks down at his bandaged side. “I don’t think they were very happy about that.” He laughs weakly, wincing at the jolt of pain from that slight movement. “Worth it.”

Tubbo tilts his head. “What was worth it?”

Eret gestures broadly to himself and his current status in the cot. “It was gonna be you or me. Whichever one of us they saw first, they were gonna ask.” He grabs Tubbo’s hand and squeezes it. “I’d be tortured for a thousand years if it meant you’d be safe, y’know.”

The ending of that sentence is lost on Tubbo, who was seeing red the minute he heard the word ‘tortured’. “Eret,” he says, coldly, “What do you mean by ‘tortured’?”

“I was gone for hours, wasn’t I? Doesn’t take that long to stab somebody,” he huffs. “They really wanted me to say ‘yes’, I think.”

Before he can say more, Tubbo’s hand is pulling away from his and he’s up on his feet, heading towards the door.

“I’ll be back later, Eret,” Tubbo calls behind him.

“Where are you going?” Eret asks, attempting to get up and then immediately regretting that decision and quickly giving up.

“Out!” Tubbo chirps, the door slamming shut behind him.

\------

Wilbur is in his office, head in his hands as he stares blankly at the papers in front of him. He knows who killed Eret, but he has no proof. He has no clue what he’s going to do now. He groans and pushes the heels of his palms into his eyes before pulling his hands away and staring out of the window.

He pauses.

The sky looks a lot darker than it did five minutes ago. It’s only around three o’clock, and the weather for today looked like it was going to be sunny and cloudless, and yet he can see shadows start to roll across the buildings of L’manberg. He hustles to his feet.

He opens the door and the moment he takes a step outside he realizes the source of the darkness. A wall of smoke is drifting through the sky above him, and he feels ash enter his eyes and lungs as he gawks at the sight. The air smells like burning wood, like some monstrous campfire, and he squints his eyes and brings his shirt up to cover his nose and mouth as he journeys towards the infirmary, practically running inside before swiftly shutting the door behind him.

“Wilbur?” Fundy asks, looking up from where he had been changing Eret’s bandages. “I was just about to come get you. Eret’s awake!”

Eret smiles weakly. “Hey, Wilbur.”

Wilbur smiles back, fire temporarily forgotten in lieu of pure joy. “Eret, thank God.” He steps forward and leans against the wall near Eret’s bed, staring down at him and double-checking him for any injuries. “How are you feeling?”

“Life is pain, Wilbur.” Is all Eret says, laughing slightly before letting out a hiss as Fundy accidentally brushes up against his cut.

“Mhm,” Wilbur agrees, before remembering why he came there in the first place. “Oh- shit- did you guys see th-”

“Wait, Wilbur,” Eret starts, looking apologetic for interrupting before moving on, “Have you seen Tubbo? He left here a while ago. He was acting… weird. Weirder than usual, anyways…” He trails off.

Wilbur, really, does not often think of himself as very smart. Sure, he’s a good leader, and a good musician, but sometimes he gets a little lost in a conversation, and he could never do medicine like Fundy, or even strategize like Tommy. However, it’s quite simple for him to put two-and-two together.

“I think Tubbo is actively committing arson,” is all he says with no further explanation.

“What.” Eret and Fundy say at the same time, leveling him with a look.

“It’s like the fucking apocalypse out there,” Wilbur says in justification, “Raining ash and all that cliche shit.” He looks at Eret. “What were you talking about before he left?”

Eret pauses to absorb that information. “Oh shit.”

Fundy laughs nervously. “What were you talking about?” He echoes.

“Well, he asked why I got killed in the first place, and I told him that whole thing, and it was okay.” He starts before whispering something unintelligible.

“What was that?” Wilbur asks.

“BeforeItoldhimIgottortured.” Eret says, slightly louder. 

“You got what?” Fundy shouts at the same time Wilbur says, sagely, “He’s definitely killing people right now.”

Wilbur leaves the two behind to their own argument, Eret trying to explain why he may have “forgotten” to mention that particular fact while Fundy shrieks in indignation. He steps outside the infirmary, prepared for the air quality this time, and starts heading towards the gate. He pauses when he notices the bloody footsteps leading into the weaponry storage. He chooses to follow them instead. He cracks the door open and peeks inside.

Sitting on the ground inside the storage building is Tubbo, deep in thought while carefully cleaning off a gleaming sword. He looks up as Wilbur pushes the door open completely.

“Hello, Wilbur!” Tubbo says. He’s absolutely drenched in blood. Considering the smile on his face, Wilbur infers that it’s definitely someone else’s.

“Tubbo,” Wilbur starts, “What the fuck did you do?”

“I’m just fulfilling the karmic cycle, Wilbur,” Tubbo casually explains as he stands up and puts the sword back on it’s proper rack before pulling off his helmet and starting to clean it as well. The room smells like copper. “Torture my brother,” the rag squeaks from a particularly rough drag across the metal, “get murdered and have all your shit burned.” Tubbo says lightly, as if he’s discussing the weather.

“W-What?” Wilbur says, “What about the war, Tubbo? You definitely just committed, like, several war crimes.”

Tubbo scoffs. “What war, Wilbur? I’d like to see them try,” he says with a smile, “considering the current respawning and sudden lack of gear.” He snickers.

Wilbur pauses to consider this. Tubbo, unfortunately, is right. At the very least, nobody’s around to say that he isn’t. “Did you steal anything cool?” Wilbur chooses to ask, knowing that Tubbo would never leave a situation like that empty handed. Tubbo brightens up and opens the rucksack that had been sitting next to him, reaching inside, entire arm disappearing within it’s enchanted holding space.

“Tommy’s records, of course,” he starts, setting them gently on the ground next to him. Next, he pulls out several bottles full of glowing red powder. “Redstone for Fundy,” Wilbur knows that his rucksack is a little more magical than most items, but he’s still not prepared when Tubbo pulls out an unreasonably large, enchanted sword. “For you!” He says, before reaching into the bag one last time, and pulling out a crown, holding it in his lap. “And for Eret!” he exclaims.

“How the fuck did you get Dream’s crown?” Wilbur asks, “He barely wears that fuckin’ thing!”

Tubbo shrugs. “Found it with the rest of their stuff, I think they had been trying to use it to convince Eret to join them earlier.” He stares at it. “Dream doesn’t need it anyways. It’s hard to wear a crown without a head.”

Wilbur feels like he’s been shocked by static. “Tubbo, what the actual fuck?”

“Pfft. It’s fine, Wilbur!” he says, waving a hand dismissively, “It’ll reattach when he respawns.” He pauses. “That’s gonna hurt, though.” Another pause. “Good.”

“Christ…” Wilbur mumbles. “Well, c’mon then. Let’s go see Eret, yeah? Let him know about your… accomplishments.” Tubbo hops up, grabbing his stolen goods before trailing behind Wilbur.

Once Eret gets better, they never see him without that crown. They never see him without Tubbo practically attached to his side, either.

**Author's Note:**

> title is from dear dictator by saint motel!
> 
> eret my man im sorry for killing you and im also sorry for making tubbo cry but its cool because im sure he had fun committing some crime
> 
> once again, be weird about shipping and you'll regret it! (that's a threat!)


End file.
